


Magic Changes

by ewaughs



Category: The Magicians (TV), The Magicians - Lev Grossman
Genre: Depression, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Soulmates, bond, kiss, searching magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 22:55:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5983402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ewaughs/pseuds/ewaughs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quentin is taken away from magic and completely detached from everything and everyone that has anything to do with it. Eliot contacts Quentin unexpectedly, determined to help him make his life more tolerable and get his magic back somehow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Magic changes - 1

First, Eliot came to him in a dream. That one same dream every single night for several weeks.  
For a long time Quentin had seen this as a deliberate crime - his subconscious taking it’s smooth revenge against his poor heart and soul.  
He was long time detached from everyone and everything that had anything to do with magic. He even refused to use that word.  
Waking up with that one name on his lips every morning was hard enough. "Eliot."  
He was afraid to fall asleep, never able to wake up completely. Feeling like a shadow. Incomplete and transparent.  
"Do you miss me?" Eliot asked him once in their very private dreamland. He asked, but he knew all the answers too well.  
Quentin had tried to solve his problem. Hypnosis, herbs, alcohol.  
Eliot was reminding him of everything he had left in the past. Their old friendship, magic, Brakebills, Fillory.  
Everything was too painful.  
"You need to leave. This must end.”

That one October evening, however, was quite different.  
Roughly around seven o'clock he prepared some water for tea, buttered a toast and for a moment, perhaps out of habit, stared aimlessly out of the kitchen window.  
Leaves on the trees outside were already starting to change their colours.  
For some time, he wasn’t able to breathe properly. Strange tension clenched his chest. His heart under pressure.  
"What the hell." He whispered into the silence of his empty apartment.  
There was a loud knock on the door followed by another and another and another ... He knew those eccentric knocks too well.  
"Quentiiiiiin."  
He looked exactly the same. Tall and majestic. Wrinkles around his eyes from smiling and laughing too often. From enjoying life.  
"Invite me in maybe?” He raised an eyebrow in his very own cocky way and instead of waiting for an answer, he gracefully glided past him.

"What are you doing here? Am I dreaming again?" Quentin had to pinch the skin on his arm just to be sure before sitting down next to his friend.  
"You were not dreaming, you huge dildo. That was me checking up on you." His hand casually resting on Quentin's shoulder.  
The feeling of Eliot’s warm palm that Quentin leaned into without realizing it. Just days ago they had been separated by both - space and time.  
Quentin was quite happy to see that Eliot's ability to turn his life upside down had not disappeared.  
"But ..."  
"You look shit, honey. I came to change that.”


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliot moves in and Quentin is very fond of him.

“So … can I bring my stuff in? Left all of it in the hallway. You can offer me a drink after I unpack.”  
“Your … stuff?” Quentin wasn’t actually surprised at all. He knew he could expect anything from his special friend. He knew him too well. His flaws and imperfections.  
“Well, I’m moving in?! Someone needs to take care of you, you poor thing.” Eliot patted his shoulder and smiled like he wasn’t realising he’s an intruder.  
But he knew too well. He could make Quentin feel something and he was aware of that.  
He wouldn’t use that power he had over Quentin against him but he wanted to push him just a little bit.  
Quentin could throw him out, but he somehow felt Eliot in his life, at that point, was a good thing. He needed him. Every atom of his body needed that little adventure.  
Someone who would understand. Someone close to him. And no one had been ever closer to him in that way than Eliot.  
Eliot came to him and kicking him out of the apartment would be a terrible mistake.  
After all Eliot was the one who could help him find his magic and maybe even something more.

They started drinking. Quentin had only a vintage bottle of cognac that was quite too bitter, but Eliot couldn’t be stopped. “I’ve swallowed worse.” He said. Quentin didn’t ask.  
“You need to explain this to me. Why … why would you want to help me? You have your life.” Quentin frowned a bit, taking another sip right from the bottle.  
And so Eliot started talking. Quentin wasn’t absolutely aware of it at that time, but he was extremely fond of Eliot talking about his life.  
The tales about his private adventures were extraordinary and Quentin felt special. He held those tales close to his heart as he held Eliot himself.  
“And in between all of that, all of your adventures … you just had the idea to stop by and help me?”  
“But Q, I always think about you. I always carry a piece of you with me. I want to help. We’ve shared so much and you still don’t believe I could miss you?”  
Quentin didn’t have the strength to explain. To explain how impossible the whole situation felt for him.  
Hours ago, Eliot had been just a dream.  
“Missed you too.” Because that was all there was. The truth as simple and pure as it could be.  
They hugged and stayed in each other’s arms for the rest of the night.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Train rides, excitement, and goodnight kisses.

They were sat on a train. A tiny private coupé.

You can imagine Eliot wasn’t terribly excited about sharing such a small space for quite a long journey or let alone - being on a train.

But none of them was fond of driving a car (or could actually drive one) and this little trip was a part of Eliot’s plan to search for Quentin’s magic. 

“So … it’s a national park? With …” Quentin wasn’t sure about any of this. No aspect of this so-called-plan seemed to be safe. But then again, when did he care about being “safe”?

And he was starting having fun. He was starting feeing alive again, after a very long time.

The upcoming adventure or the presence of Eliot - Whatever it was that was pumping blood into his veins again, it was worth it.

“Shamans, yes. Quentin I’ve read actual books for this, for you. I’ve done my sacrifice. So please, darling, shut up and drink some more.” Seeing Eliot smile like that was refreshing.

His face was glowing. _What caused this?_ Quentin couldn’t stop asking himself. And worse - the answer coming onto his mind was “ _the reason for his smile might be me_ ”.

 

Quentin was laying on the bunk bed, his head in Eliot’s lap.

Half asleep, he could feel Eliot’s fingers on the top of his hand.

Drawing ornaments into Quentin's soft skin with his fingertips, ancient invisible spells.

“What are you doing?” He mumbled. 

Eliot’ s giggles echoed the room. Soft and quiet.

“Right now?” He whispered right into Quentin’s left ear. Causing goosebumps.

“Mmm?”

“Kissing you goodnight.” 

It wasn’t a dream, but he was determined to pretend it was. For a while.

The memory of Eliot’s warm lips in the corner of his own, unforgettable.


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin is angry, shit goes down.

They didn't talk about the kiss even though they both remembered it too well.

Quentin remembered it because he was of course confused and slightly dazzled by the whole new side of Eliot (at least for him it was) and Eliot himself on the other side remembered it because he was wondering if it would come up and if it could maybe happen again.

They were currently sat in a cave in the middle of the woods located somewhere not far from the Woodstock area. 

Quentin was smoking a pipe filled with burning leaves, herbs and crushed animal bones. 

In front of him was sitting an Indian shaman, hands covered in blood of unknown origin. The same shade of red covering Quentin's cheeks.

Eliot was nowhere to see, he was forbidden to be present at the ritual itself.

Was Quentin hoping to get his magic back? No, not really. He was still broken over it and at the same time that whole crushing experience evolved a whole new level of his self-preservation instinct inside of his brain.

He didn't want to get his hopes up - THAT would kill him.

"Move this stone. Use your magic." The shaman spoke after hours of silence. His voice cold and the tone of it sharp. 

And so Quentin tried.

 

"It didn't work." He was fighting tears but he was determined to not let his disappointment show. "What a waste of time." He spitted out. Bitter, angry.

"Oh, don't be such a crybaby Q. What did he actually tell you?" Eliot looked almost crazy, standing in his fancy heels in this long lost place full of mud and worms and wild animals.

He was like a marble statue and even the beauty of the nature that was surrounding them couldn't compete with his majestic posture and charm of his personality. After all, he was meant to be a king.

"I'm leaving. I'm leaving right now. This whole thing was such a bad idea."

"Don't you dare Quentin. You are NOT giving up."

They were speaking too loud. Blood inside Quentin's veins burning and boiling. 

This was all Eliot's fault. He was angry and he wanted Eliot to know, he wanted to fuck him up. 

"DO NOT TELL ME WHAT TO DO."

Eliot found himself pinned against a tree. His pupils wide and dark. Surprised, excited.

"Do not tell me what to do." Quentin said again, this time whispering the words right into Eliot's ear.

And then he kissed him. There was nothing gentle about this kiss. That was not a kiss goodnight. 

No. 

This was teeth clenching, moaning, forgetting to breathe, sweat and hands everywhere. 

This was something they had been holding back for a long time.


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin can't keep his hands off Eliot. Eliot doesn't mind.

Three things were on Eliot's mind.

First, Quentin's hands were no longer cold or shaking with anger.

Second, the forrest that was surrounding them was suddenly darker and deeper, or at least felt like that.

 

"Oh fuck, Q." Eliot had to laugh. Loud and excited laughter. Manic.

He was trying to catch some air and fill his lungs once again. But it seemed almost impossible with Quentin's mouth on his and his pulse quickened.

Quentin's pupils wide. Hair messy. Breath shortened and quick.

Hands gripping Eliot's hips so hard it was almost too painful.

Eliot biting on Quentin's neck in return, leaving teethmarks there. Visible, exposed.

This was all his now. This was all his.

 

Quentin's pale skin and light hair contrasting with Eliot's whole being.

Quentin's gloomy aura versus Eliot's "glitters and confetti" mind.

"Turn around for me, would you?" Eliot was asking but it was really more like an order.

He was already pulling down Quentin's trousers to touch his erection, then enter him with his fingers.

Preparing him for what was about to happen. Preparing him for something they couldn't take back.

Quentin turned around obediently, one of his red cheeks meeting the tree they were leaning onto.

"Ready?"

A single nod. Quentin's lips bitten to blood trying to form Eliot's name in a moan when he finally thrusted into him.

Then - destruction.

 

 

Third, none of that was really happening. 


	6. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin finally gets his magic back but now he has another problem to solve. The problem is called "Eliot".

"I think ..." Quentin was still a little bit shaky. His cheeks red, burning. 

He was also weak in his knees from the sudden energy loss. 

"I think I just used my magic?"

He was questioning it. Questioning himself. 

He was having sex with Eliot just minutes ago, wasn't he? It felt so real.

But it was't. He was projecting something inside of his head, channeling it out through his magic.

Putting all of his energy into it.

And Eliot knew. This magic wasn't work of one person.

"Yes. Indeed." It was the Shaman. His words coming out in a serious tone but there was for sure a knowing smile on his face.

And a smirk.

"You had to show your deepest needs and desires. Let the energy flow through you and then out. Congratulations Mr. Coldwater."

He felt the Shaman's hand touching his shoulder. The touch itself warm and full of support.

"Even though you had someone helping."

 

"Let's NOT pretend it didn't happen." Eliot raised his eyebrow.

"But it wasn't ..." He was trying to find the right words. Trying to explain.

"What? Real?" Eliot didn't look confused at all which wasn't very reassuring for Quentin.

He felt anxious and wanted to run away. So many questions on his mind.

_Do I love Eliot? Can this last? Will he leave me?_

Unable to answer any of them.

"But it felt real, Q. And I don't think I could forget."

"But ..."

Eliot shook his head. Standing too close, again.

Deja vu.

"I don't think I want to forget." 

And then he felt it again.

Soft lips kissing his own. 

Eliot's arms wrapped around his torso. Warm.

And Quentin knew ... THAT was real.


End file.
